


Call Me By My Name

by Jakcett



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Brat Kink, College, Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29708463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakcett/pseuds/Jakcett
Summary: Unfortunately, Zane Flynt's problem student has returned from winter break stupider than ever.
Relationships: Zane Flynt/Rhys
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Call Me By My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Speaking of, I'm back to university after winter break, and this semester is trying to kill me. The only reason I have written this is because I have put off working on schoolwork. It's me, I'm the problem student. 
> 
> Let me know if you need me to tag anything else etc, etc, and thank you for reading!

Professor Flynt was late to class by an astonishing ten minutes. Once he did arrive, it was very clear that he would much rather be anywhere but this room in particular. He sat his thermos on the front desk--anyone that knew Flynt personally would know that there was Baileys in his coffee-- and he pulled a folder from his laptop case. 

The chatter of other students had begun to settle upon his entry and now it was nearly quiet as he spoke. "Lots of familiar names, here," he looked over the roster. "I'm not goin' to bother with roll call, just be ken that if you ain't here for finals your ass will be here again next semester." He said with a charming, threatening smile. 

There were a few quiet giggles from some freshman. Flynt was the type of professor that only gave about as much of a shit about class as his students did. Otherwise, he was a smart man and he knew what he was about. He had quite a few complaints from older or homeschooled students about his methods, language, or general lack of professionalism. But the board couldn't get rid of him right away, he had tenure. 

The first class was spent going over the syllabus, which--other than a few unique sections--completely plagiarized parts of the college's handbook. 

And Rhys spent most of that time daydreaming. Staring with fluttering eyelashes at the professor, his head propped on his hand. He had spoken to Vaughn about the man, which was part of why Vaughn kicked him out that morning in the first place. He had been pacing, excited, slightly terrified, and Vaughn made him leave so he could write his thesis in peace. 

Last semester, he had the pleasure of meeting Flynt while off-campus at a bar in town. Then again quite a few times after class. One memorable time at the professor's home. And then once the semester ended, they went their separate ways. Rhys had a decent winter break, and fully intended on staying late after class today.

Mr. Flynt seemed completely unfazed by his presence. In fact, he didn't look at Rhys once during the entirety of the class-- which would usually take up two hours, but today took only half that time. Once the syllabus was taken care of, he told everyone to take off and be ready for the full experience the next time they would meet. 

And Rhys sat in his seat until the rest of the students had all left and he was left with Flynt who was busy ignoring him. He was packing up his laptop and papers. Rhys was just about to speak up when Flynt spoke first. 

"Don't you have somewhere else to be, boyo?" He asked, not even looking up to acknowledge him.

Rhys pouted, obviously hurt. He stood and approached Flynt's desk. "Don't be an ass, you don't just  _ forget _ the guy you fucked for three months." 

Flynt looked up at him with a very even face. He blinked slowly and took a breath. "I didn't forget about you lad, but as a professor I--" 

Rhys huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "I know, yeah, you'd get in trouble." He was very aware of the consequences of getting caught. Flynt brought it up after their first meeting and very quickly forgot about it once Rhys got his mouth on him again. 

Flynt sighed and ran a hand through his messy silver hair. "We had our fun but we can't keep doing this, someone'll catch us out and I don't want to lose my position." 

Rhys didn't say anything, just pouted, looked at him with a godawful puppy dog face. 

"You ain't gonna use that there look on me anymore, Rhys, I gotta be the responsible one and you're making that hard to do." Flynt zipped his bag up and put it over his shoulder. He caught sight of Rhys again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I take you for drinks tonight will you quit it?" 

"Maybe," Rhys tugged at the straps of his backpack and shrugged a shoulder as if the outcome didn't particularly affect him anyway.

"Excellent." And Flynt almost left it at that. "No...no funny business. Just drinks." He pointed emphatically at Rhys who scoffed. 

"Yeah, yeah." 

They walked together down the hall, and Rhys made sure their hands brushed together before they parted ways. 

☆

It was the same bar they would usually go to. It was a small one, hidden among back alleys, with a quiet charm and a bartender that never asked questions. It was Flynt's regular spot. He used to get a pint and some chips and grade papers in a quiet booth. Up until some students found it and decided it was "chill" and now he was no longer safe there. Now he only visited with Rhys and he was behind on his paperwork. 

"This place is always so...boring." Rhys took absolutely no time in acting like an insolent bastard. Flynt was very aware of the  _ phase _ that Rhys was going through as a young man. He had reached a point where he had artificially inflated his ego so he truly believed he was the absolute shit and no one in the world mattered quite as much as he did. He was rude, and quite honestly a brat. 

The two sat in a booth and got their drinks. Rhys particularly liked fruity cocktails that had double the alcohol content of Flynt's lager and didn't taste half as bad. 

"It's boring 'cause it's not a young person's bar." Flynt was already halfway done with his drink, not bothering to savor it as he usually would. "It's quiet and the drink here is banger." 

"It's a coffee shop for old alcoholics." Rhys spun the little umbrella that came with his drink between his fingers. "Like, you come here because you think you're a connoisseur or something and it makes you feel classy. You get overpriced drinks, get no work done, and you go home." 

Every day Flynt's patience for this tosser dwindled. He didn't hate him, he just really desperately wanted to put some sense in him. "Then, about that club you made me go to last year?" 

"Oh, the Jackpot, yeah, that place is cool." 

"It was garbage and the bouncer stiffed ya, sayin' they got a cover charge." Flynt sipped his drink while Rhys squawked. 

"They've always had a cover charge!" 

"Maybe for pretty wains that don't know a shakedown if it bit them in the arse." 

"But I've always had to pay to get in." 

"Then they remembered ya and you fell for it again." Flynt swirled the last little bit of his drink at the bottom of the glass. "Next time you go in, tell 'em to feck off."

Rhys sat and sipped at his drink, irritated, leaning on the counter. "Why don't you just come with me and tell them to fuck off." 

"Cause you're a grown-ass adult, Rhys. I'm not your ma." He downed the last sip of his lager. Caught Rhys staring at him. "What?" 

"Dunno, just." He reached out and traced a line with his finger from Flynt's jaw, down his throat, to the now opened collar of his work shirt. "It's just a shame that you're being so responsible now." He said with a mock pout, changing the subject. 

Flynt swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt a headache coming on. It wasn't like he wasn't attracted to the boy. Rhys was quite sexy, despite being a pain in the ass. In fact, Flynt had absolutely no qualms with continuing their no strings attached relationship. The problem was that unfortunately he may have strings, as any person would have for someone that they spend any sort of extended time with. He didn't want to risk becoming attached to the man, or holding him to a different standard than other students. He didn't particularly care if they were caught out and that in and of itself was worrying. 

"It really is quite a shame, but you aren't gonna win me over, acting a cute hoor." He winked his cybernetic eye. 

Rhys turned red, "I'm not--" 

"No, no, I know that little thing you do. If you want me to change my mind, you're gonna have to try harder, lad." He thanked the bartender when they came by and refilled his mug. 

Rhys shuffled in his seat, pouting, side-eyeing Flynt who acted completely unbothered.  _ How dare he!  _ Rhys thought. He knew Flynt was dying for him on the inside, he just had to break him. He's gotta try harder. What can he do? 

He scooted closer and put a long leg over Flynt's knee, leaning into his side. 

Flynt put an arm around him. "You're really that desperate are you?" 

"What do you want me to do?" 

They spoke in hushed tones even though nobody here would tell a soul. They're stuck in a booth towards the back of the bar and no one would bother them. 

"What do I…" and Flynt felt the tips of his ears burning. Every cell of his being was screaming at him to get a grip and tell the boy to get off. He huffed, looking away. 

"Don't you want me on your lap? Like how we used to?" Rhys' lips were awfully close to Flynt's cheek. His breath whispered over his skin, and a hand came up to the collar of his shirt again. It traced down, around the buttons, and then just teased along the belt of his slacks. 

Flynt wished he was drunk. If he was drunk then he wouldn't feel so guilty; he wouldn't have such a headache. Instead, he let Rhys leave barely-there kisses on his jaw and he felt desire roiling in his chest. He'd finished his second glass while Rhys had barely touched his. 

Rhys' soft hand petted at Flynt's chest and he cuddled closer, head on his shoulder. He was slowly making his way into Flynt's lap. "Please? I'll be good." He pleaded now. "I can be good for you." 

"You'll be the death of me." Flynt mumbled, pulling Rhys rightly into his lap. His hand was strong on Rhys' thigh, nails scratching lightly against denim jeans, pawing at him. He let himself kiss Rhys' shoulder, his neck, his throat. Rhys made keen little sighs and gasps, leaning his head to the side so his elder could devour him. 

He really shouldn't. He needed to stop and tell Rhys to go home because if they kept this on, neither of them would see the end of it. They both knew it could end terribly badly. Neither of them could care. 

They could only cling to each other as their lips met. They kissed deeply, a little too passionately for a public place. 

☆

So Flynt took Rhys to his home. A small flat that could only belong to an old bachelor. Papers that needed grading, beer bottles that needed to be tossed, and they tripped over a mess of shoes and jackets in the entryway. 

Rhys tossed himself backward onto the bed, giggling. "Ahh, this is a lot better than the mattress in my dorm!" He had already stripped himself down to his underwear and he kicked his pants to the floor. Flynt straddled his legs from the edge of the bed, only having lost his shirt when Rhys managed to pop buttons from it when he was pulling at it. 

"I should spank you. They used to let us teachers do that to kids that misbehaved." He unbuckled his belt and slipped it from the loops of his trousers. Rhys just smiled up at him, that little coy smirk. 

"You wouldn't, you're too nice." He said, reaching up to pull at the hem of Flynt's pants, to pull him closer. Flynt snapped the belt, a hard crack that made Rhys merely glance up to him. He didn't have half the respect he should have. Flynt really wanted to prove the little brat wrong. 

He managed to flip Rhys over to his stomach, the man yelping in surprise. 

"Hey--hey!" Rhys scrambled, but Flynt held him down, a hand on the small of his back. 

"Relax, I won't hurt ya. Just gonna tease you for a while." He caressed a hand over Rhys' bottom, watching Rhys settle down and shoot an embarrassed glare at him over a shoulder. 

"You really wanna spank me? What a pervert." Rhys wiggled his ass a little bit, though. "You like spanking bad little boys? That's how you get off?" 

Flynt laid a fraction of a slap on one of Rhys' cheeks and the boy squealed. He laughed, "Aw, you shut your mouth mighty fast, Rhys. You aren't scared of the belt, are you?" 

"No! I'm not a baby." Rhys wiggled about and got from between Flynt's legs so he could sit upright. "You wanna spank me then make me bend over!" He said it with such a cute little defiant pout. 

It barely took any manpower to wrestle Rhys over his knee and even less to pull his underwear off, almost as if he was willing. The boy swung his feet back and forth in the air, quietly stewing from not being as big of a handful as he thought he was. 

"I think I'll spare you the belt tonight." Flynt began, Rhys' head spun to look up at him, and Flynt had to hold him down. "I still have hands, lad." 

Rhys pouted and slumped over. "As long as I can walk to class tomorrow…" 

Flynt puffed a little laugh, and graced a calloused hand over Rhys' bottom, squeezing a chubby cheek and groping until he pulled back and left a red handprint across the pale skin with a slap. 

Rhys then held tight to Flynt's leg, shaking with nervous, strained laughter. "You-- that hurt." 

"That's the point." Flynt smirked. "You wanna count? Ten lashes for making me put my career on the line." 

"That's your own fault, you pervert." 

"We can make it twenty." 

"I'll count." 

Flynt reared his hand back and left another handprint over the last, with Rhys wheezing. 

"One." 

And again, 

"Two." 

Already Rhys had little hysterical tears in the corner of his eyes. It didn't particularly hurt as much as it just stung in a way that made his prick twitch. 

"Three." 

Flynt's hand landed slightly lower, right above the crease where Rhys' thigh met his ass, and Rhys whined. 

"You feeling ashamed of yourself yet?" Flynt left the fifth and sixth lashes across the same spot that made Rhys cry and writhe. 

"I'm more ashamed I'm letting this turn me on." Rhys mumbled, and then moaned with the seventh smack. With each one he was pushed into Flynt's leg. With his position, all the blood was rushing to his head. He felt hot, a stinging blush covering his shameful cheeks. 

By the time they got to ten, Rhys was scrambling out of Flynt's lap so he could sit in it properly. 

"I should spank you again for enjoying that as much as you did." Flynt held Rhys by the ass, massaging the pained, reddened skin. 

Rhys didn't say anything, just kissed him hurriedly and messily. He held tight while Flynt laid back on the bed and let Rhys obsess over him. His pants were tossed to the floor quickly, along with every other piece of fabric that kept him from the boy. 

"I want you in me." Rhys mumbled, absently, leaving more kisses along Flynt's collar and throat. His hips moved on their own, thrusting against Flynt languidly. 

Flynt took Rhys by the hips, turning so he was on top of the boy and he could get away just long enough to find where the hell he put the lube. Rhys was reaching out for him, making adorable little grabby hands. 

"You're either spawn of the devil or the cutest thing on this damn earth. You don't have any in-between, do you?"

Rhys had already made himself busy brushing his fingers through the dense silver hair covering Flynt's chest. A dazed hum was his only reply.

"Turn over, boyo."

And incredibly, Rhys obeyed almost immediately. He rolled over to his tummy and looked back expectantly with those pretty eyes. Flynt felt his heart flutter. Those eyes, that cute face, his terrible personality. Rhys was awful but Flynt couldn't keep his hands off of him, let alone keep his heart from pounding at the walls of his feckin chest. 

He got a decent amount of lube on his fingers when he noticed the red handprints still marking Rhys' ass. He cursed quietly to himself, spreading Rhys more gently than he usually would. He thumbed slick lube around Rhys' puckered hole, and slipped a calloused finger in briefly. Then again, and he could hear Rhys sighing and moaning into the pillow he was hugging. 

Thick fingers prodded inside, scissoring and slipping in and out. Rhys was finally getting impatient when Flynt decided he had enough and slicked up his cock. 

Rhys wiggled his hips upward while Flynt lined up and pushed the head of his cock in. He sighed graciously, hands holding Rhys tightly by the hips as he slowly slid inside. He really had missed the idiot. 

The long, soft moan from Rhys made a chill run through him. He reached an arm around Rhys to pull him back against his chest, and kept a hand firmly on Rhys' hip. He moved almost imperceptibly, just rocking slightly deeper, teasingly. He pushed his lips to Rhys' bare shoulder and up his neck. He's wearing the same cologne as always. That cheap, light musk that makes Flynt roll his eyes while his traitorous heart reels. 

Rhys whined, loud and emphatically, trying to push back against Flynt's cock. " _ Move. _ " 

Flynt pinched him. "So damn impatient." He mumbled. But he thrust his hips to satisfy the brat. Still slow, but long and deep, lethargic, and Rhys still complained. 

"Stop...teasing!" He writhed in Flynt's arms, trying to get a faster pace, anything even slightly more excited and punishing. He whined when Flynt held him tight. 

"Just be a good boy for me for once, let an old man live in the moment, will you?" 

Rhys panted, frustrated and too weak to really do anything but whine and cry. 

"Don't it feel nice?" Flynt lowered his voice, lips whispering near Rhys' ear. "You wanted me in you and you got it." 

" _ Please _ just fuck me dammit please." Rhys begged quietly. 

"Aw, you do got some manners!" Flynt slid out so he could fuck back in sharply, coaxing a surprised gasp from Rhys. "See what being a good boy gets you?" 

Rhys shivered, trying to reach back and grab anything to anchor him. Flynt's cock inside him was heavenly, the weight and the size made Rhys want to cry with joy when he finally began to fuck him proper. "Yes,  _ fuck _ , please,"

It was a steady rhythm, not too fast, but it quickly had Rhys mumbling incoherent curses and praises. Zane let him lean forward so he could cling to the pillow again. A hand, gentle, pressed on his back to keep him steady, the other still tight on his hips. He's gonna have bruises there, fingerprints where Flynt held him.

The glide of Flynt's cock inside him was addictive. He missed it, the solid rhythm that rose between them, that carried them along, gripped by pleasure. He could feel it in his core. The tightening of heartstrings, butterflies swarming and fluttering in his chest. And the gradual heightening of a crescendo between his legs. 

Flynt couldn't feel guilty when he heard Rhys moaning so sweetly for him. Not when all the blood in his head had rushed southwards. A stiff prick has no conscience they say, and Zane was a shining example of a man captured by love and lust and completely incapable of saying  _ No _ to a pair of beautiful puppy dog eyes. 

Having Rhys tightly around his cock, he wanted desperately to keep this for himself. He wanted to be greedy and selfish and  _ stupid.  _ To leave marks on Rhys, lovebites that said he was there and Rhys was his, and no one else can have him even if Rhys likes to flirt with anything that moves. He wanted everyone to know that the man was his, to be proud about it, and that was dangerous. 

But he left little bites and bruises anyways. As he thrust deeply, sharply into Rhys, he licked and kissed and bit at the back of his neck. He left quiet red and purple spots that would fade in a day or two and go unnoticed. Then, he could just leave more. He could keep Rhys after class, have the boy on his desk, in his office, at his home. 

Then he felt that rising pleasure, a rush that snuck up on him quickly and pushed him for more. Pushed him to hold Rhys tightly to him, to fill him full, mind blinded by lust and the strangled gasp and cry of Rhys coming across the sheets. 

It was about time he did the laundry anyways. 

By now, his headache was gone. Like some nagging moral authority on his shoulder, he had flicked it away like a pest. Rhys was beneath him, in his arms, breathless and beautiful. 

They cleaned up once the cloud of euphoria lifted. They took a shower, and Flynt took the dirty sheets from the bed while Rhys sat by, an unhelpful lazy child. 

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked. 

Flynt glanced at him. "Do you want to leave? You prolly have homework to be doing." 

Rhys fidgeted with the leg of his shorts. "I don't. But you said you're gonna be responsible now and--" 

"I might've been persuaded." Flynt rolled up the last sheet and tossed it in the hamper. "You're terribly persistent and I'm an awful person, so…" he trailed off, running a hand through his damp hair. "Stay if you like." 

Rhys' eyes grew, wide and starry. "Really!? Thank you Mr. Flynt!" He leaped to the man's arms, grinning. 

"Augh, that sounds weird, don't be calling me that outside of class." Flynt let himself put his arms around Rhys. 

Chuckling, Rhys kissed him. "What should I say then? Don't say you want me to call you daddy." 

Flynt rolled his eyes. "No, my first name is Zane. Call me Zane." 


End file.
